


I Know I'm Not Always Right

by triggerswaggiehavoc



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Confusion, Fluff, Love Confessions, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Mild Language, Romance, maybe??? idk, regular old adults AU, stressed woozi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-18
Updated: 2016-05-18
Packaged: 2018-06-09 05:04:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6891307
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/triggerswaggiehavoc/pseuds/triggerswaggiehavoc
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day while shopping, Jihoon runs into a man claiming to be his neighbor, and after that, it's like he can't get away from him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know I'm Not Always Right

As he sifts through the boxes of cereal on the shelf at the grocery store, Jihoon can feel someone’s eyes on him. It’s not only a feeling, though; out of the corner of his eye, he can see someone blatantly staring, and it’s starting to piss him off. He figures he does a good enough job being courteous to others in public, and frankly, he does not deserve this bonus aggravation. Whoever is looking, whatever reason they have, Jihoon doesn’t care. He just wants to be left alone. He sighs, turning to head toward the checkout line, and comes face-to-face with the person who’s been watching him.

The man is extremely handsome, and there’s no way any good can ever come from talking to a guy that good-looking. He quirks an eyebrow when Jihoon tries to shuffle past, then flashes a smile, and _god_ , that sure is a smile. “I’ve been staring at you for like ten minutes,” he says suddenly, voice a little too low, too thick, too smooth. “Don’t you think that’s weird?”

“Yeah, it’s weird,” Jihoon says in a monotone, stopping involuntarily. He starts walking again, an attempt to end the interaction as quickly as possible, but the man’s voice pulls him right back.

“You weren’t even going to say anything to me?” His voice is velvet, rich with mystery. It’s exhausting. “Tell me to stop? Ask me what my problem is?”

“Staring isn’t technically illegal, and I don’t particularly care what your problem is,” Jihoon clips. He walks away, but that’s not enough to deter the guy from following him into the checkout line. He lets a soft chuckle slip through his lips.

“You’re an interesting guy.” His eyes twinkle with the words, tiny stars dancing in them from constellations Jihoon doesn’t want to know anything about.

“Yeah, I’m a real hoot.” The ensuing silence should be enough to drive him off. It’s clear that the conversation is over, and even clearer that Jihoon isn’t about to say anything else. Apparently this guy can’t take a hint.

“Aren’t you going to at least ask why now that we’re talking?”

“No. I don’t care.”

“Damn!” Of course that couldn’t just be the end of it. “I’m going to tell you anyway.” A sigh forces itself out of Jihoon’s lungs. “It’s because we’re neighbors.” Setting aside the fact that that hardly makes sense as a reason, Jihoon forces himself to give the guy a once-over. Tousled sandy brown hair, sharp features, soft eyes, winning smile, strong shoulders, pretty hands. He’s definitely attractive. But Jihoon is certain he’s never seen this man before in his life.

“We are not neighbors,” he asserts bluntly, loading his meager amount of groceries onto the belt. “This is the first time I have ever seen you.”

“You wouldn’t know because, unlike most people, you didn’t bother to come introduce yourself when you moved in.” Again with that mischievous tone. Jihoon wishes he had waited to buy groceries until tomorrow. “I see you leave your apartment all the time, though. I thought since we happened to both be shopping at the same time, I may as well take the opportunity to introduce myself.” He extends a hand that Jihoon doesn’t intend to take, but his arm moves on its own. “I’m Junhui.” Jihoon eyes him skeptically before turning to make his payment.

“The lack of groceries in your hands leads me to believe we are not meeting by chance,” he points out. Another laugh.

“You’re quick,” Junhui says playfully, “but in reality, they’re just out of the very specific item that I came here to buy.”

“And what item might that be?” They’re making their way to the subway station now, and Jihoon is wondering exactly how long Junhui is planning on tailing him. Gray clouds stretch across an overcast sky, threatening to pour down on them at any moment, and he hopes against hope that it won’t start until he’s safely inside the subway station.

“Ooh, are you saying you care?” A sly grin spreads across Junhui’s face as his heels tap against the pavement beside Jihoon. A few raindrops hit the ground with soft splashes as they begin descending the stairs into the station. Jihoon sighs.

“I’m not.” He tries to squeeze into the subway and leave Junhui behind in the station, but the guy is evidently made of water. He just slides through the closing doors and keeps his spot at Jihoon’s side.

“Of course not.” He sighs without a hint of exasperation, scooting closer just barely. It’s not much, but it’s enough. Enough to make Jihoon suddenly aware of just how close he is. Too close. “Never caught your name, by the way.”

“Never threw it.” Jihoon moves to back away and realizes suddenly how full the car is. Explains why Junhui is standing so near, but it’s a wonder he didn’t notice before.

“Suppose you didn’t.” A smile again. Quit it with those damn teeth. “That’s fine, though. You can’t keep it a secret forever. I’ll hear it by chance sometime, and then you won’t be able to stop me from befriending you.”

“It’s not a secret. It’s Jihoon.” How are there seriously still people like this? It’s barely been ten minutes, but Jihoon feels like he needs to sleep for a week. “You don’t need to befriend me, either. I have enough friends.”

“Nothing you say will deter me.” The car shudders to a stop suddenly, throwing Jihoon’s balance, and Junhui looks out the window. “Hey, this is us.” He immediately turns to exit, and as Jihoon can’t see over anyone, he has no choice but to trust Junhui’s word and follow.

He’d feel better about almost being home if it weren’t for the rain now pouring down heavily. Junhui turns and says something to him, but the downpour is too loud; all he hears is a chorus of rainfall as his lips move. “I can’t hear you,” Jihoon shouts over the rain, clutching his bag of groceries to his chest and preparing to sprint. Just before he takes off, he sees Junhui take an umbrella seemingly out of thin air and open it, gesturing for Jihoon to join him beneath it. Jihoon’s never been one to turn down shelter.

The silence under the umbrella is suffocating. Jihoon doesn’t want to talk, but even if he did, the rain is too loud to allow it. Even so, he feels like he needs to say something as they slosh through puddle after puddle toward the apartment building. Rain patters noisily atop the umbrella while they walk, a constant staccato thrum in his ears. After an agonizing eternity, they finally reach the building. During the silent elevator ride, Jihoon notes that the right half of Junhui’s body is completely soaked. He inserts the key to his own door, then turns to see Junhui doing the same, watching with quiet eyes until he’s opened the door fully.

“Thanks for sharing your umbrella.” Junhui pauses halfway across the threshold, turning his head with raised eyebrows. A few seconds pass. Another grin.

“What are friends for?”

Jihoon doesn’t see Junhui again for a bit, and he’s mostly thankful. The rain’s always made him feel a little tender, that’s it. He still has no desire to act all chummy with his neighbor, no matter how charming he may be. Holing himself up in his apartment to work on new songs is always a good way to avoid company, so that’s what he does. It helps that there’s a seemingly limitless number of flaws to fix in every single song. He doesn’t get much sleep.

The next time he ventures out, it’s because the wiring on his headphones has gotten a little frayed. The mall is just a few stops away, so he takes the subway in hopes of getting in and out of the music store there in as little time as possible. He’s carefully weighing two brands against each other at the back of the store when he hears a familiar voice.

“Well, if it isn’t my neighbor.” He beams brightly, stopping a few feet back from Jihoon, eyes shimmering. His hair is parted and styled today, and he’s got on well-fitting khaki pants and a lanyard with a nice little name tag attached to it. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You work here?” Jihoon curses internally. Obviously he works here. Non-employees just don’t walk around wearing nametags all the time. Way to make conversation.

“I do,” Junhui says with a proud nod, ignoring the blatant stupidity of the question. “I set up the t-shirts.” He watches Jihoon silently shift his weight back and forth for a while, mouth creasing into a line and relaxing like he’s on the verge of saying something. “The one in your right hand is better,” he adds finally.

“Do you have authority to make that judgement?” Jihoon places the pair in his left hand back on the rack anyway. “I thought you set up the shirts.”

“You are correct. I also happen to know a thing or two about our wares.” He shuffles a few steps backward, a smug grin settling in nicely on his features. “If that’s all you need, I can ring you up.”

“Wow,” Jihoon deadpans. “And here I thought you were just in charge of shirts.”

“I am a man of many skills.” When he’s behind the register, he’s got a strange, unexpected look of focus, smile notably absent from his face. As soon as he’s got the headphones bagged, though, a cheesy grin creeps its way back onto his visage. “I’m about to go on my lunch break,” he begins, passing the purchase to Jihoon, “so would you be a pal and have lunch with me?”

“I’m a little…”

“I promise I won’t keep you more than twenty minutes,” he bargains, though his face shows no sign of desperation. “And I’ll pay for you.” He raises his eyebrows imploringly. Jihoon’s never been one to turn down free food.

The food court is filled to the brim with people, and while Junhui says he can pick any place he wants, Jihoon knows the only reasonable option is the place with the shortest line. Right now, it’s a restaurant that serves wraps. Junhui asks him if he’s sure that’s what he wants at least fifty times, tells him it’ll be okay if they have to wait just a little bit right up until Jihoon places his order at the counter. After five minutes, they’re squeezing themselves into a small table at the farthest brink of the food court.

“How are you?” Junhui asks, taking a sizable bite of his wrap. He dabs delicately at his lips with a napkin, and Jihoon resists the urge to laugh aloud. He narrows his eyes suspiciously. “What’s so funny?”

“What? Nothing’s funny.” He straightens his face as much as he can. “I’m splendid.” Junhui’s eyes spark knowingly, but he just nods in return, biting off another decent chunk. Jihoon waits for him to say something else, but a few seconds of awkward silence give him the vibe that it’s still his turn. He clears his throat softly, generating a small spark Junhui’s eyes. “How are you?”

“I though you would never ask,” he says smugly, finishing his food and lacing his fingers together on the table. He sure does have a nice pair of hands. “I was a little lonely, but now I’m just fine.”

“You don’t seem the lonely type,” Jihoon muses. That smile sure could spin a different story. Junhui lets his eyelids close, nodding his head forward deeply. When he opens his eyes again, they’re twinkling.

“Would you believe me if I told you you’re not the first person who’s told me that?” Jihoon isn’t sure how to answer, so he doesn’t. He just shrugs and finishes his food, avoiding eye contact with Junhui even though he doesn’t know why he should be. They throw the trash in a bin a few feet from the table and turn their separate directions, Jihoon to the exit and Junhui to the music store.

“Thanks for the food,” Jihoon says, turning back with a small bow. Junhui flashes his teeth in a wide grin.

“Thanks for the company.”

The headphones work well, arguably better than Jihoon’s previous pair, and he’s glad Junhui intervened, because he was seconds away from deciding on the other ones. He sets to work straightaway when he gets home, listening with careful ears for any possible problem in each song. The deadline is coming up; not extremely soon, but soon enough for him to be worried about it. It seems like he’ll never be able to fix everything no matter how much time he has. In one song, the bridge lacks impact; in another, the chorus is too heavy; in another, the structure at the beginning is strange. No matter how much he alters, new issues keep revealing themselves. Before he even realizes it, it’s past three in the morning. With a heavy sigh and much left to do, he climbs into bed.

In the morning, he decides after a fierce internal debate to go get some work done at the park. He wouldn’t normally do this when there’s so much to get done, but the sunlight filtering through his partially closed blinds is too distracting, and he feels like he hasn’t gotten much fresh air lately. Packing his computer into a backpack, he begins his short walk to the park near the apartment building.

Rays of sun are warm on his skin, sending shivers up his spine. He keeps the apartment cold to avoid falling asleep while working, so the mild heat is a refreshing change. He settles into a bench, resting heavily on the planks making up its back, wood hard against his spine. With closed eyes, he lets himself soak in the warmth for just a moment before pulling out his computer and absorbing himself in his work. He’s just worked out the problem with the structure when a presence appears beside him on the bench. A hunch regarding the person’s identity surfacing, he turns his head to see a much sweatier version of his neighbor than usual.

“Are they working well?” Junhui asks as Jihoon removes the headphones from his ears, smile stretching across his face. He’s glistening in every way; his skin, eyes, teeth, everything. He’s got his hair combed back out of his eyes but not styled, an earphone dangling limply from one ear. Shorts and a sleeveless top show off a surprisingly toned physique that Jihoon tries not to pay too much attention to.

“Yeah, they’re good,” he says. Junhui nods enthusiastically, raking a hand through his hair, and a cool breeze stirs the fabric of his clothes. “Out for a jog?” He isn’t normally one to ask, and he doesn’t particularly want to, either, but for some reason, he feels compelled.

“Just finishing up.” He yanks the other earphone out and coils the cord around his phone, sliding it back into his pocket. “What are you up to?”

“Work.” The screen goes black, so he stirs the mouse to revive it and save his edits before he can forget. Junhui’s eyes flood with curiosity. He leans an inch closer to take a look at the screen, but glare from the sun prevents him from seeing anything.

“What kind of work?” he asks upon failing to see for himself.

“Song production.” He moves his mouse around the screen without purpose to keep the screen from going dark again, though it’s already clear he won’t get anything done with Junhui talking to him.

“Seriously?” Junhui’s jaw hits the pavement of the trail. “That’s so cool!” He watches Jihoon fiddle with his keys and lets out a low whistle, pushing himself to his feet. “Well, if you’re close to finishing, would you care to join me for lunch?”

Jihoon is nowhere close to finishing, and he knows it. Maybe it’s the weather. Maybe it’s that smile. Maybe it’s the air getting to his head. It could be anything; there’s no telling. Whatever it is, Jihoon lets it win. He promptly shuts his computer and shoves it in his bag. He doesn’t want to admit it to himself, but somewhere deep down, he was hoping Junhui would ask. “Let’s go,” he says promptly, rising to his feet, rewarded by an even larger smile from Junhui.

“I totally thought you were gonna say no,” he admits, leading Jihoon down the path and out of the park. “Today is going way better than I expected.” Once they hit the sidewalk, Junhui slows his pace to walk side-by-side with Jihoon, but he still leads the way, turning down different streets without warning until they reach a little restaurant with lots of outdoor seating under a colorful awning. It’s a bit early for lunch, so the majority of the tables are vacant, one lone bird hopping around atop an empty chair. “Hope it’s okay that I picked the place this time,” he adds as if it isn’t already too late for Jihoon to object.

“I don’t really care.” Junhui just smirks and heads inside to request a table, returning outside shortly with a host, who seats them immediately. After a short while of perusing their menus, a waiter comes by to take their drink orders. After a brief wait, they’ve got their drinks set on the table before them, condensation frosting the glasses, and their server is promising to be back in a minute to take their orders for food.

“Sure is a beautiful day,” Junhui muses, taking a sip from his water.

“I actually have to agree with you on that.” Jihoon takes a look at the sky, perfectly blue without a cloud in sight. “It really is nice out.”

“Do you always do your work outside when it’s nice out?”

“Not always. Just today.”

“Interesting.” The corners of Junhui’s mouth tug upward, eyes alive with the smile. “It really is my lucky day, I guess.”

“How so?”

“The weather’s gorgeous,” he explains, gesturing to the sky. “You were doing work outside for the first time ever, apparently, and I bumped into you. And you agreed to have lunch with me!” Jihoon can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm.

“Well, maybe you’re not as bad as I thought.” Junhui brings a hand up to rest the palm on his chest, closing his eyes and letting out a long breath.

“For the sake of my own feelings,” he begins lowly, “I’m going to pretend you _didn’t_ say that second part and instead just told me I’m not that bad. So I thank you for the compliment.” Jihoon doesn’t even try to hold back the snicker bubbling forth from his chest. “Yeah, have a laugh at my wounds. It’s fine.”

“Do you always run at the park?” Jihoon asks when he’s finally settled down. Junhui quirks an eyebrow.

“Are you saying you care?” Rather than answering, Jihoon just shrugs, partially because he’s not sure whether he actually does care. “I’ll take that as a yes, then,” he says smugly, “which is a step forward in my evolution from neighbor to pal.”

“You geek,” Jihoon scoffs. “I change my mind. I don’t care anymore.”

“So you _admit_ that you care!” Junhui points an accusatory finger straight at Jihoon’s chest, speaking again when he opens his mouth to counter. “No taking it back now, Jihoon. I’m onto you.” He sighs contentedly, leaning back in his chair. “But to tell you the truth, today’s the first I’ve gone for a run in weeks. It’s hard to find the motivation, as I am a man who loves to rest.”

“Could’ve fooled me with the shape you’re in,” Jihoon snorts.

“Ohoho,” he chuckles goofily, wiggling his eyebrows. “Thank you.” Jihoon regrets making a comment at all. Before he can say anything else, the waiter reappears to take their orders, apology after apology about the delay falling from his lips. Jihoon hadn’t even noticed that he was taking so long.

By the time they get their food, it’s about the normal time to have lunch, and Jihoon is famished. Evidently Junhui is as well, because they both demolish their food in record time, nary a word coming from either side until both plates are completely cleared. When the waiter deposits the check, Jihoon reaches into his bag only to find that his wallet is disturbingly absent. He searches through the pockets frantically because _it has to be in here somewhere_ , but to no avail. It’s nowhere to be found.

“I am so sorry,” he rushes, turning with wide eyes to Junhui, who only raises an eyebrow. “I thought I brought my wallet, but I guess I left it at my apartment. I swear I’ll pay you back.” Junhui folds his money into the book and counts out a tip for the table, waiting for the waiter to come back around.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he says with a grin. “I was planning on paying for you anyway.” Jihoon watches in silence as the server comes back for the payment, his jaw hanging slightly open. Junhui rises from his chair and offers a sly wink. “But you can pay for my meal next time if you really want to.”

After that, Jihoon seems to bump into Junhui everywhere he goes, almost every single time he leaves his apartment; it starts to seem bizarre that they never ran into each other once before that day at the grocery store. Jihoon always gets fed up after seeing too much of someone: it happened all the time in college, when he would get tired of seeing his classmates’ faces all the time and eventually just shut himself up in the dorm. For some reason, though, he doesn’t stop leaving his apartment this time. No matter how many times he’s roped into eating lunch with Junhui, no matter how many times he meets him at the subway or sees him in the grocery store. It’s mildly frustrating because he doesn’t know why he continues to go out when it’s basically become protocol to encounter his neighbor.

A few weeks full of random run-ins pass by in a flash, and Jihoon’s deadlines are suddenly immediately before him with a mountain of work that still needs to be done. He lapses quickly into the usual routine of locking himself in his apartment and staying up until four in the morning, then sleeping for a few hours and doing it over again the next day. It ends up like this every single time, always too many problems remaining with the songs for him to rest at all during the entire two-week period before they need to be finished. The toll on his health is tremendous; his stress levels shoot through the roof, and he loses more weight than he knows is acceptable, but he has to do it. There’s no other way to get everything done.

It’s on a night like this, around twelve days before his songs need to be completed at roughly three in the morning, when he hears a horrifically loud noise through his headphones, like a waterfall crashing through a wall. It’s hard to tell where the sound came from since it was so loud, but he can still hear what sounds like flowing water for several minutes after the initial noise.  He takes his headphones off carefully, ears perked for any other sound that might indicate he should leave the building, but nothing else happens. Just as he’s sliding them back over his ears, he hears a hollow knock on his door, barely loud enough to be noticed.

He shuffles through his apartment without turning on the lights, temporarily blinded by the brightness of the hallway. Once his vision returns to him, he lays eyes on a very tired version of Junhui in sweatpants soaked up to his knees and a thin undershirt. His hair sticks up at various angles, ruffling slightly with the blow of the air conditioning. It takes Jihoon a few minutes to adjust to the sight of him, the cogs of his early-morning brain turning slowly and with little success.

“Junhui?” he asks finally, voice slightly hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m so glad you’re awake,” he sighs, neglecting the question. Surprisingly, his voice sounds far less exhausted than his face lets on. “I hate to ask this, but can I sleep on your couch?”

Jihoon eyes him carefully. He hates having his questions ignored, and he hates not getting explanations even more, but after a minute of internal debate, he steps aside to let Junhui in anyway. He guides his guest through the dark room, throwing an arm out at the couch when they pass by it and continuing on to his bedroom to return to his work. Settling back into his chair for another hour of toil, he slides his headphones back on with a sigh. Part of him immediately regrets letting Junhui in, but he chokes it down. Just one night won’t kill him.

When he wakes up in the morning, he’s partially convinced he fell asleep at his desk and dreamed the whole interaction. This notion is cast aside right away when he exits his bedroom and is confronted with a very there and _very_ shirtless Junhui sprawled out and snoring on his couch. Against his will, his eyes notice that Junhui’s chest is just as toned as he had expected after running into him at the park. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes, fairly sure that he’d had a shirt on last night, then notices it discarded on the floor. With that one inconsistency squared away, he heads into the kitchen to fix himself a cup of coffee. Upon reemerging, he finds his visitor waking.

“Morning,” he says dryly from the kitchen entrance, watching Junhui sit up in a daze and blink slowly until he locks eyes on Jihoon. “Any particular reason you don’t have a shirt on?”

“Sorry, is that against house rules?” he says around a yawn, snatching the garment from the floor. “My bad.”

“Well, I’m not exactly accustomed to finding shirtless men in my living room.” Junhui wheezes out a dry chuckle, eyes roaming Jihoon’s stoic face.

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“Say you’ll put your shirt on.”

“Alright,” he sighs, tugging the shirt over his head. “I’m putting it on. Sorry.” He pulls up his knees, tucks them under his chin, and presses his palms over his eyes. Jihoon coughs.

“Why exactly did you need to sleep on my couch last night?” He taps his mug with an index finger, taking a long sip of coffee without shifting his gaze from Junhui.

“You probably heard it,” he groans, hands keeping their spot on his face. “Some of the pipes in my upstairs neighbors’ apartment busted. It destroyed their floor and flooded my place, so now I don’t have a ceiling and all my shit is damaged.”

The only thing Jihoon can think of to say is “That sucks,” but that won’t help much, so he just takes another drink. “How long will it take to fix?” he asks after a moment of thought. Junhui drags his hands down his face to reveal the sunken, hopeless eyes of a man with a freshly destroyed apartment.

“I have no idea,” he confesses dejectedly. “I have to go talk to the office today and tell them what happened. And they’re notorious for being unhelpful, so I’m not really looking forward to it.” Groans again. “This sucks.” Jihoon offers a sympathetic nod as he stares bleakly at the wall.

“Well, good luck.” He rinses his now empty mug and sets it beside the sink, starting back toward his bedroom. “I’ve got a lot of work to get done, so I’m going to do that now.”

“You aren’t even going to eat breakfast?” The sudden bewilderment in his tone catches Jihoon by surprise, momentarily stopping him in his tracks.

“No.” He withdraws into his room. “Bye.” Slams the door. After a quick change into a fresh set of clothes, he’s back in his chair, cracking his knuckles and ready to get back to work. The reflection on the computer screen lets him know that he looks just as tired as he feels, but with so much to do, he can’t afford to take a break. Straightening his back and pulling on his headphones, he enters a heightened state of focus, blocking out everything else but the song entering his ears.

He actually feels like he’s making decent progress until he spots the time in his peripheral vision. It’s been almost eight hours, and he’s barely touched on a third of what he needs to do with this song alone. His spine screams at him, stiff from being in a chair all day, and his stomach joins in, desperate for food. Reluctantly, he rises from his chair and heads to the kitchen.

With the fridge door open, it becomes glaringly obvious that he has absolutely nothing to eat. Evidently, his last batch of groceries didn’t last as long as he expected. A 90% empty half-gallon jug of milk and an unopened carton of tropical fruit juice are the only contents worth noting. His stomach rumbles in protest, urging him to head out to get something, but his feet remain unmoving, firmly convinced that something will appear in the fridge if he stares at it for long enough.

There’s no time for him to go out. He needs to get back to work as soon as possible. After a good while of seeing nothing miraculously materialize in the fridge, though, it looks like he’s going to have to cave. He scoots to the doorway and starts kicking his shoes on. He’s got his right foot fully covered and his left foot halfway in when a sudden knock at the door nearly knocks him to the ground. He swings the door open to find Junhui for the second time in a row.

“Hey.” He looks far more put together this time, hair styled and a real outfit on, smile included. He’s also got his hands pretty full with a few large bags. It’s a wonder he was even able to knock on the door. “Can I come in?” His tone is pretty casual, but his eyes are pleading.

“What’s up with the bags?” Jihoon asks as he steps aside and knocks his shoes off, curiosity getting the better of him.

“I got the distinct vibe this morning that you were not planning on feeding yourself,” he explains in an alarmingly accurate display of intuition, struggling to carry the load in his arms safely to the table, “so I brought dinner.” He turns around to see Jihoon rearranging his shoes and his face drops. “Were you leaving? Did I stop you? I am so sorry.” He pivots back and forth awkwardly between the bags on the table and Jihoon in the doorway, unsure what to do with his hands. “I’ll, uh…”

“I was actually leaving to get dinner, so it’s fine.” He takes careful steps closer, sniffing to try and discern the contents of the bags. “What did you bring?”

“It’s Chinese.” He reaches into the bag and pulls out box after box, the scent growing stronger each time. It smells great, but Jihoon can already tell he’s brought way too much for just the two of them. “Now, I know what you’re thinking,” he begins once he’s got everything laid out on the table. “Why did I bring so much?”

“Wow.” Once again, the accuracy is astonishing. “That’s actually _exactly_ what I was thinking.”

“Man, I’m good.” He’s momentarily too distracted by his own correctness to continue with his previous thought, but after taking a glance at the massive quantity of food on the table, he remembers. “Oh yeah. Anyway, as I was saying, yes, I brought a lot of food. But the thing is, I didn’t know what you would want, and I don’t have your phone number, so I just had to settle for getting my top three guesses.” He gives a solid thumbs up, and Jihoon can barely believe his ears. What kind of person gets their top _three_ guesses instead of their top _one_? “The leftovers will just turn into a meal tomorrow, so it’s fine if we don’t finish everything.”

Jihoon hesitantly takes a seat at the table and begins opening the boxes one by one. It was already apparent with them closed, but with the boxes open, it becomes twice as obvious just how much food there is. On top of the overabundance of delicious smells, steam pouring forth from all the containers raises the room’s temperature a few degrees. Everything looks really good, but Jihoon can’t do anything but stare in awe, his stomach rumbling like a tiny thunderstorm. He snaps out of his reverie only when a pair of chopsticks comes flying at him from across the table.

All of it tastes just as good as it looks. Jihoon hadn’t quite realized how hungry he was until he started eating, but now it’s hard for him to stop himself. Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Junhui watching him with a grin plastered across his face, eyes shimmering. “What?” Jihoon snaps after swallowing the bite he’d been chewing.

“Is it good?” he asks excitedly, leaning forward a little.

“Yeah,” Jihoon answers without much emotion, though he’s singing hymns of joy internally. “It’s really good.” Junhui nods proudly.

“That’s a relief.” He brings a large bite to his mouth and packs it in, chewing carefully. “It would kinda suck if I brought you dinner to thank you and then you ended up not liking it.” He swallows, scratching his chin. “I guess it would be my fault, though, for not asking, but still.” Jihoon almost forgets what Junhui has to thank him for, but the memory of finding him only partially clothed on the couch this morning enters his brain just in time to remind him.

“Ah,” Jihoon begins, trying to push away the thought intruding on his otherwise peaceful mind, “did you go tell the office about what happened to your apartment? What did they say?” Junhui groans, letting the smile slide off his face. He rests his chin in his hand with a heavy sigh.

“First, they told me they wouldn’t be able to make any estimates without seeing the damage for themselves, so I showed them my apartment. _Then_ they told me they couldn’t say anything for sure until they saw the damage to the apartment upstairs, too, so they went and looked at that apartment, and do you want to know what they told me when they came back?” He takes in a deep breath before continuing, letting it all out slowly. “They told me that they have no idea how long it’s going to take to get fixed. Isn’t that great?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know what I can do.” He pokes absently at the food still left in his box with a chopstick. “They said they would pay for me to stay in a hotel until it’s finished, but there are no extended stay hotels on this side of town, and I really need to _not_ be all the way across town. I just…” He grips the sides of his head in frustration. “I have no idea.” Jihoon looks on pensively until he straightens back up and attempts a smile. “Well, enough about m—”

“You can stay here.” He certainly had not intended to say that, but the words are out of his mouth before he even knows to stop them. He doesn’t really want to offer, but he can’t take it back once he’s already said it. “If you don’t mind sleeping on a couch, I mean.” Junhui’s eyes all but pop straight out of their sockets, his knee banging the leg of the table loudly as he lurches forward.

“Jihoon, please say you aren’t just pulling my leg.” The desperate hope in his eyes makes it impossible for Jihoon to tell him he hates having guests, so he stays silent. “If you’re serious, I would be so, so grateful.” Now he has an out.

“Yeah,” he says, completely foregoing his opportunity to avoid having a guest for who knows how long. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Junhui is a little over-the-top, but he’s not a bad guy. Having him around might be a good thing.

“Oh my god.” He presses his forehead to the table in the deepest bow he can give from where he’s sitting. “Thank you so much. I promise I will split your rent as long as I need to.” A red mark is evident on his face when he lifts it to look at Jihoon again. “Is it seriously okay, though?”

“Well, I offered,” Jihoon states, dodging his final chance to back out. Junhui’s face cracks in a dazzling smile, and all of a sudden it’s much too bright in the room.

“You are a saint,” he asserts firmly, nodding his head in agreement with his own words. “You may act like you’re not that nice, but you are.” He lets out a breath, continuing before Jihoon can take any offense at being accused of feigning callousness. “Thanks so much again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jihoon says, trying to shrug off the compliment. “But I’ll just tell you now that I have a ton of work to do over the next two weeks, so you won’t be seeing much of me.” He takes a glance at the clock on the oven and rises from his seat in alarm. “And I actually need to get back to work right now. Thanks for the dinner.”

“Thanks for letting me sleep on your couch,” is the last thing Jihoon hears as he exits into his room, Junhui’s cheerful voice rattling around in his head until his headphones are sending the music back into his ears. He can’t let anything distract him for too long, not when he’s so short on time. He empties his brain of everything but the sounds filtering through the speakers of his headphones. It’s time to focus.

When the clock tells him it’s just past two in the morning, his throat tells him that he desperately needs a glass of water. The reluctant rise from his chair is accompanied by the rhythmless popping of various bones over his entire body, and he’s too tired to wonder if he should be concerned. Shuffling to the kitchen, he’s momentarily surprised by the sound of deep breathing coming from his living room area; thankfully, he remembers Junhui’s existence before he jumps to the conclusion that someone has somehow broken into his apartment.

He does his best to be quiet as he grabs a cup from the cabinet, but once he starts filling it under the sink, he hears a hitch in the breaths and the sound of something rustling around on the couch. “Jihoon?” Junhui’s voice is low, a little huskier than usual, and Jihoon almost chokes on his water.

“Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.” His voice sounds extremely small to his own ears, but maybe it’s just distorted since he’s had music pouring into them nonstop for hours.

“I’m a light sleeper.” Jihoon could swear he almost sounds weirdly proud of that. “Are you still working?”

“Yeah.” Junhui hums in acknowledgement, and Jihoon nearly chokes a second time. There’s another rustling sound before he speaks again, this time in a more muffled voice.

“Make sure you get enough sleep,” he says, a yawn overtaking him at the end of the sentence. Jihoon stands still for a few moments, too bewildered to either say anything or finish drinking his water.

“Yeah,” he says finally, emptying his glass.

“Goodnight,” Junhui adds when he hears Jihoon’s retreating footsteps. Rather than responding, Jihoon just nods in return, completely ignoring the fact that it’s too dark to see anything. He slides back into his chair feeling ready to get today’s work over with, but he can’t get Junhui’s voice to leave his head. It was just one simple sentence, yet it feels like the world. When was the last time someone said something like that to him? How many years has it been? Does he even want to remember? Whether he wants to or not, he can’t; there’s not enough time in the world for him to think about something like that, especially not right now. He pulls his headphones on again and tries to take his mind off it by doing what he does best: drowning himself in work.

He shouldn’t be surprised when he finds Junhui once again without a shirt on his couch the next morning, but he is anyway. Despite having claimed to be a light sleeper, he’s still asleep when Jihoon emerges from the kitchen with a freshly made cup of coffee. After a few more sips and no stirring on the couch, Jihoon makes the executive decision to scoop up his shirt from the ground and walk it over himself. When he’s near enough, he unintentionally notices a number of freckles dotting Junhui’s chest, and he fights against the urge to think they’re cute. Without warning, Junhui’s eyes snap open.

“Hey,” he says, sounding very alert for someone just waking up. His eyes flit between Jihoon’s reddening face and the balled up t-shirt in his hands. “Oh my god,” he blurts, immediately covering his chest with his hands. Before Jihoon’s soul has time to leave his corporeal form, though, he continues. “I’m so sorry. It’s a habit.” It takes a second for Jihoon to realize that he’s talking about his lack of upper body clothing, not the fact that he just caught Jihoon accidentally staring at his chest. After a brief delay in hearing words and understanding their meaning, Jihoon drops the shirt onto Junhui’s chest and backs away quickly.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says hurriedly. “I’ve gotta get back to work.”

“You’re seriously not having breakfast?” He sits up and stretches his arms, letting the shirt slide into his lap. “You need to eat _something_.” Jihoon has no idea why he looks so concerned.

“I’ll be fine,” he insists, “and I need to get back to work.” He backs into his bedroom as fast as his feet will carry him and pulls the door almost to a close. “Knock if you need anything.” He’s not seated at his desk for a minute before he hears a knock on the door. Hauling himself back up with a sigh, he opens the door and finds himself face-to-chest with a still-shirtless Junhui. How did he go so long without realizing how tall he is?

“Uh,” Junhui begins awkwardly, moving his hands in circles and completely ignoring how close he’s standing. Jihoon backs up a little, but Junhui takes another full step forward, so now it’s even worse. “Is there, like, a key I could borrow?” He scratches at the back of his neck and averts his gaze. “I don’t wanna be pushy, but I have work today, and I would really like to be able to get back in.”

“Uh, yeah.” Jihoon stretches his arm to point to the kitchen, making extra sure not to accidentally brush Junhui’s side. “In the far left cabinet, there’s a spare key. You can use that.” He grabs the door and starts pulling it shut in an attempt to force Junhui back out, but it doesn’t stop him from grabbing Jihoon’s hand.

“Thanks, Jihoon,” he says, smile just as warm as his fingertips. “You have no idea how much this means.” He then backs out of the doorway and pulls the door shut himself, leaving Jihoon standing still, very flustered, with one warm hand and one cold one. He places the cold hand over his heart in a futile attempt to slow the rapid beating that has suddenly ensued. There’s no way he’s about to let himself catch feelings for this man, neither now nor ever. Work requires all of his focus. He reminds himself every day, and he’s not going to slip up right now. He does his best to act like his heart is behaving exactly like normal and reclaims his seat.

It’s not until quite a bit later in the day that he even has thoughts of leaving his desk. The reason behind them is a knock at his door, heard only faintly over the music in his ears. He doesn’t want to answer it, but there’s no sense in acting like he can’t hear it. Junhui will most likely just keep knocking until he answers, and that incessant backbeat isn’t something he needs right now. Junhui’s smile temporarily blinds him once he opens the door.

“What is it?” he asks just a moment before a delectable aroma fills his nose.

“I borrowed your kitchen and made dinner,” he says cheerily. “I would be overjoyed if you would come eat some.” Jihoon can’t disguise the unbelievably loud growl that tears forth from his stomach, but he tries to anyway.

“Actually, I’m good, but thanks.” His stomach immediately betrays him again, and Junhui just quirks an eyebrow. “Fine,” he sighs after a minute-long stare down. “I’ll come eat.”

“Excellent,” Junhui says, beaming, and leads him to the table, where he’s already set out plates for two people. “It’s just pasta,” he says, uncharacteristically bashful, “but it’s what I’m best at making, so I hope it works.”

“Works for what?” Jihoon asks while he pulls out his chair, eyes locked on the plate of pasta. It certainly looks as good as it smells. Once he’s seated, he turns his gaze back to Junhui. “You didn’t have to make dinner.”

“Well, how else am I going to thank you?” he asks like it’s obvious, sliding into a chair himself.

“You thanked me yesterday,” Jihoon reminds him warily, eyebrows raised.

“But that was for something different,” he says with a wink and picks up his fork. “Now, why don’t we eat?”

After seeing it, Jihoon isn’t shocked by how good the pasta tastes. What’s more surprising is that Junhui’s the one who made it. Half of him regrets missing out on the scene of him cooking, but the other half reminds him that he had and still has way too much he needs to finish. As he chews, he sees Junhui’s eyes sparkling in the corner of his vision, overflowing with expectancy. “It’s really good,” he says at last, and this seems to be exactly what Junhui wanted to hear.

“That’s such a relief,” he breathes. “I haven’t made it in a while, so I was a little worried, but it looks like I’m actually still awesome.” Jihoon lets out a breathless laugh before setting his fork down.

“Sure you are. Well, this was good and all, but I have a lot of work left, so—”

“You can’t leave yet!” Junhui protests before he can even get the rest of his sentence out. “You haven’t even finished your plate!”

“I’m full,” Jihoon lies. His stomach growls at him for more sustenance, but even more prominent is the unfinished work gnawing at his brain. As much as he’d like to take more time to eat, he already spent way too long having dinner yesterday, and he needs to make up for the lost time somehow. Junhui eyes him skeptically, knowingly, and something about the perceptiveness of his look makes Jihoon uneasy.

“You expect me to believe that?” he shoots. “You haven’t had anything else to eat all day.”

“How would _you_ know that?”

“I moved the trash can and set it on top of the couch when I left for work,” he says, pointing at the trash can in question. “When I got back, it was still there, and you also didn’t say anything about it, so I can only assume that you didn’t notice, which would only occur if you didn’t leave your room, which you would have to do if you were going to eat.” He pulls a satisfied smirk.

“So what you’re saying is, you put the trash can on top of my couch _specifically_ to catch me in the act of doing work all day?” He raises his eyebrows. “That’s a little strange, don’t you think?”

“Look,” Junhui dodges, “you need to take care of yourself. I get that you have a lot of work to do, but you should at least stay fed.”

“I have more than a lot of work to do,” Jihoon informs him, pushing himself to his feet. “And I appreciate the concern, but I really need to get back to it. Thank you for the food.” He stalks off quickly and shuts his door with a noisy slam. He feels bad for leaving his half-empty plate on the table, but it’s too late for him to go back and get it now. He’ll just have to clean it up later. Now’s the time to forget about everything outside of the songs on his computer.

Before realizing it, he settles into a strange sort of routine. Every morning, he leaves his room to find Junhui only half clad on the couch, and every evening, he’s dragged out of his room and forced to eat dinner. He doesn’t really mind it, but it’s all underlain by the constantly rising stress as he fails to surmount the seemingly infinite number of issues with his songs. He does his best to hold it together, to keep himself from cracking, but his brain can barely take it. He’s exhausted, he’s frustrated, he’s hungry, he’s constantly got a headache. It’s too much. Each time, he thinks it might be better next time, but it never is.

His stress peaks four days before his songs are due. He’s sitting at his computer after his compulsory dinner, working on a song, and he knows there’s something off about the way it sounds, but he can’t pinpoint what it is, and he has no idea how to fix it. He listens to the same ten-second section over and over again, thirteen, fourteen times in a row, but it just sounds like noise. Awful, clashing, unfixable noise that grates at his ears. He wants it to stop, but he needs to keep listening, needs to keep his ears ready for when that impossible solution finally reveals itself. Gritting his teeth, he suddenly feels a warm droplet land on his hand. With careful fingertips, he touches his own face to find that it’s suddenly very wet, hot tears pouring forth from his eyes undammed.

Just as he starts glancing around the room in search of tissues he knows he doesn’t have, a loud knock at the door startles him out of his chair. He really doesn’t want to answer it like this, but there’s not much else he can do. Heaving himself onto his feet and wiping at his cheeks, he crosses to the door and swings it open quickly. Junhui opens his mouth to speak but ends up just letting his jaw hang open, eyes wide.

“Are you crying?” he asks after a while, extending a hand to grab Jihoon’s shoulder.

“Yeah,” he croaks, eyes burning as he looks up into Junhui’s. “What is it?” He barely manages to get the sentence out before choking on a sob. Junhui searches his face briefly before responding.

“You need to take a break.” His voice is gentle, but at the same time, it’s firm. Jihoon can already tell he’s going to be prevented from returning to work, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try to do it anyway.

“I don’t,” he insists weakly. He tries to pull the door closed, but Junhui stops it with his arm, and he’s just as strong as his toned figure implies. “I have,” he forces the words out, “a lot to do.”

“Jihoon, I’m serious.” The grip on his shoulder tightens. “You _really_ need to take a break.”

“I can’t.” He almost spits the words without meaning to. “You can’t understand… the pressure I’m under.” He grabs at his chest, tears falling a little harder. “I feel like…” But he doesn’t know what to say. He feels like he’s suffocating, drowning, and being buried alive all at the same time, but how can he say that without scaring him? Without giving him a chance to formulate his thoughts, Junhui pulls him into a tight embrace.

The first thing that enters his mind is how long it’s been since someone has given him a hug. A month? A year? He can’t remember the last time. Junhui’s arms are strong around him, chest warm against the side of his face. For a while, he’s stiff, waiting to be released, but it soon becomes apparent that Junhui isn’t planning on letting him go any time soon. He eventually relaxes into his arms, bringing his hands to rest hesitantly on his back. It’s been a while since he felt this warm; the feeling is nice, but he can’t stop crying.

“I just,” he mumbles into Junhui’s chest, voice much wobblier than he’d like it to be, “need to make everything perfect.” He sniffs, balling his hands up into fists. “But there’s so many problems.”

“Problems with what?” Junhui inquires softly, rubbing gentle circles on his back.

“The songs.” Tears are still coming out, but he’s starting to calm down, a little guilt over soaking Junhui’s shirt rising to his consciousness. “They all sound wrong, but I don’t know how to fix them.”

“Maybe you need to take some time away from them.” Jihoon pushes himself back a little to look up at Junhui’s face. He’s never noticed those freckles before, but he’s also never been this close.

“I can’t do th—”

“Be honest,” he mutters, a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “How much time have you spent in the past week not listening to them? Not including when you’ve gone to sleep.”

“Uh…” He’s really not sure he knows the answer, so he decides to be a little generous. “Three hours, maybe?”

“Three hours over seven days isn’t even thirty minutes a day,” he notes. “You’re hearing too much of them. Please, just humor me and take a break.” He pulls Jihoon back in and ruffles his hair. “Just for today.” Just today? Maybe it’s fine.

Jihoon surrenders after a moment of consideration, finally wrapping his arms in return around Junhui. For some reason, he doesn’t feel like letting go, feels like this is exactly where he needs to be right now, even if his heart has started hammering in his ears. He feels a hand leave his back to push the hair away from his forehead, followed by the sensation of lips pressing gently against the exposed skin; it startles him, but not enough to scare him away. Something about it is nice, an innocent kiss like that. He doesn’t want to think about whether it means anything right now, whether or not Junhui is just trying to console him or something else. He just wants to stay this way for a while.

It’s comfortable in Junhui’s arms. There’s a strong reluctance to leave them, but Jihoon is suddenly overtaken by fatigue, mere moments from falling asleep on his feet. Apparently it’s pretty evident, because Junhui lets go of him and takes a step back. Without thinking about it, Jihoon’s hand darts out to grab his arm and keep him from going. Junhui cocks an eyebrow.

“You should go to sleep.” Jihoon knows it’s true. He’s struggling too hard to keep his eyelids lifted to act like it isn’t. And yet he can’t bring himself to let go.

“Would you…” He keeps his eyes firmly fixed on his own hand while he speaks, face reddening. He knows what he wants to ask, but he’s not sure how to ask it. His grip tightens as he concentrates, and Junhui’s hand suddenly enters his vision, enveloping his own. Forcing himself to make eye contact, he looks up and sees a twinkle of understanding in those dark eyes. “If that’s okay,” Jihoon adds, suddenly extremely nervous about the request he never finished making.

“I’ll be right back,” Junhui says warmly. He pries his arm carefully from Jihoon’s grasp and dashes out for a minute, returning in pajamas after shutting off the lights in the rest of the apartment. He puts his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders reassuringly and guides him to the back of the room, flicking the lights off along the way. Jihoon’s eyes adjust to the dark quickly, and once they arrive at the bed, he pulls the covers back and climbs in. Junhui follows promptly, drawing up the covers and sliding his arms around the man before him.

This is the first time someone aside from Jihoon himself has been in this bed. Of course, there’s no reason for Jihoon to tell Junhui that, and he won’t, but that doesn’t stop the thought from occurring to him. He never thought he’d feel so comfortable with someone else in his space like this, but strangely enough, he feels reassured having Junhui with him. He doesn’t want to think he’s developing feelings—he knows it never goes well—but he doesn’t know how else to describe the strange tightness he’s been getting in his chest lately when he looks at Junhui’s face. He nestles more into the arms around him, trying to ignore his accelerating heartbeat as another soft kiss is pressed on the back of his head. He just needs to sleep now; he’ll worry about it tomorrow.

Upon waking, he’s momentarily confused by the unusual warmth and the arms still surrounding him, but it doesn’t take him long to remember the previous night’s events. The embarrassment at crying into the chest of his neighbor-cum-guest and subsequently pulling him into his bed is quick to set in. He worms his way out of Junhui’s grasp, rolling over to face him in the process. He’s astonished to see that he is somehow shirtless again despite having fallen asleep with his arms around Jihoon and being in the same position when he woke up, but the fact that his chest is once again exposed is undeniable. Jihoon inhales deeply and allows himself a moment to admire Junhui’s freckles again. They stand out like tiny stars on a vast sky, and as strange as Jihoon feels about it, he’s enchanted by them. By the time he notices that Junhui’s eyes are open, it’s too late. He can tell by the smile.

“Good morning, Jihoon,” he mutters slyly, voice just a touch lower than usual. It’s not much of a difference, but it’s enough for Jihoon to pay attention to. “Something you’d like to say to me?”

“You’ve got a lot of freckles,” Jihoon muses. Junhui just beams, draping an arm across the sheets to cup Jihoon’s cheek. He brushes a thumb under his eye silently, letting it linger for a minute before he exhales a strong breath.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he asserts, rolling backwards out of the bed. Normally, Jihoon would protest that there’s no time, that he has to do work, but this morning, he doesn’t have it in him. He’s well-rested for once, and he hasn’t had a decent breakfast in months. He’ll get back to work soon. He owes himself a break from the stress.

He slides lazily out of bed and follows Junhui to the kitchen, perching himself on the counter to watch him cook. He’s more than a little surprised when he sees him pull an entire carton of eggs and various other groceries out of the fridge.

“Where did those come from?” he asks, incredulous, as Junhui begins gathering the cups and pans and other various tools he needs to prepare the meal. None of it looks familiar, so it must be from Junhui’s kitchen, but Jihoon has no idea how long it’s been in his apartment. “I haven’t been grocery shopping in weeks, and I never buy eggs.” Junhui’s entire body freezes suddenly, shoulders tensing as he turns to meet Jihoon’s eyes.

“Oh my god. You’re not allergic to eggs, are you?” He throws his hands up in the air in panic before even receiving an answer. “Jesus! I almost killed you! I—”

“I’m not allergic to eggs.” He relaxes visibly, letting his flailing arms drop to his sides. “I just have no way to make them, so I don’t buy them.” He heaves a sigh of relief, busying himself again with cooking preparations.

“That’s good news.” He finally gets everything set out, then turns on the stove and begins cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them together. “Anyway, I bought these a few days ago, but you didn’t notice because you never leave your desk.” He throws a sideways glance to Jihoon alongside a smug grin. “I also kept my toothpaste in the fridge for three days, but you didn’t notice that either.”

“Why the hell would you keep your toothpaste in the fridge?”

“To see if you would notice. Which you did not.” He pours the egg mixture into the frying pan he’s got on the stove and tends to it with a spatula. “It was a pain in the ass, too, because I kept forgetting it was in there.” Jihoon watches him push the slowly cooking eggs around with an unusual level of focus.

“You’re a weird guy,” he says at last. Junhui snorts.

“Very,” he agrees. “It’s a wonder you’re just noticing.”

“Speaking of weird,” Jihoon begins, a sudden recollection hitting him, “how is it that you woke up without a shirt on this morning even though you were _definitely_ wearing one last night?” He chuckles dryly.

“I take it off in my sleep,” he admits, seemingly exhausted with the antics of his sleeping self. “I’ve been trying to get myself to stop, but I have no idea how.” He glances between the eggs and Jihoon, suddenly nervous. “Sorry, do you want me to go put it on?”

“It’s fine.” He watches Junhui’s lips curve upward ever so slightly, and he can’t help but let his do the same. Something is strange this morning, like he’s drifting through a dream that could end any minute, but he doesn’t mind riding it out. For the first time in a very long time, work is the last thing on his mind, and he really enjoys the feeling.

Before too long, breakfast is finished: eggs, pancakes, sausage, the works. Junhui makes a show of plating it up, nearly dropping a plate directly onto his foot, but ends up safely delivering everything to the table. While they eat, they don’t say much, but it’s not uncomfortable. Every time their eyes meet, it almost feels like they’re talking. This strange atmosphere of intimacy is completely foreign to Jihoon, but he thinks it’s not bad. Once he finishes his last bite of breakfast, though, the air dissolves, thoughts of work returning to the forefront of his brain. He sighs.

“Well, I need to get back to work now,” he says regretfully, rising to leave. “Knock if you need anything.”

“Alright,” Junhui says, taking a sip of orange juice. “Let me know if you get stressed out again.”

“Will do.”

At first, it goes fairly well; the calmness from a semi-extended period of relaxation cools his head while he works. Given enough time, though, he loses his peace of mind, a headache setting back in as the hours drag on. The frustration he left behind yesterday returns in full force, and when he’s dragged out to eat dinner, Junhui can tell. A few hours later, when he’s retiring to bed, Junhui is with him again.

It becomes a new part of the routine. When he gets tired enough, usually absurdly late, he’ll stagger out to the living room to fetch Junhui, who is occasionally already dozing. The night before the songs are due, he can’t sit still for his anxiety, doesn’t even think of sleeping until Junhui forces him to let him listen to the songs, reassures him over and over again that he can’t detect a problem with any of them. He still barely gets a wink, and bright and early in the morning, he’s off to the company building to deliver his work and get feedback. It’s exactly as Junhui predicted, but he’s stunned to hear the CEO praise him.

Even after his deadline’s been safely passed, Junhui continues sharing the bed with him, and Jihoon’s not about to ask him to stop. He enjoys the safety of having someone with him more than he thought he would, and he’s not prepared to bid it farewell.

“I have some news for you,” Junhui whispers into his ear as they crawl into bed one night, a week after the songs were due. His hands pat Jihoon’s stomach playfully, arms wrapped snugly around his waist.

“Why is now the best time for it?” He places his hands over Junhui’s to still them, but it only compels him to move them more vigorously.

“I just remembered it now.” His breath ghosts over the side of Jihoon’s face in the dark of the room. “The first thing is that I got a call, and my apartment should be fixed in about two months.” Jihoon freezes a little at the sudden information without meaning to. Two months? That’s too soon, way too soon. He’s already gotten used to Junhui’s presence; he can’t leave again so quickly. “The second thing is,” a little quieter, “I was asked by a local band to go on tour with them. Sell their shirts and stuff.”

“For how long?” Jihoon asks hesitantly, not sure he’s going to like the answer.

“A month.” A month. An entire month.

“When?” he asks, the knot in his stomach telling him he’ll like this answer even less.

“In three days.” Jihoon’s heart drops. Half of their already too-little time left together, and Junhui won’t even be around for it. For some reason, he wishes he’d fall straight to sleep. “I was waiting for it to clear with work to tell you, but it took a while.”

“Have fun.” Junhui’s arms tighten around him.

“I’ll call you,” he says. “You won’t even know I’m gone.” Jihoon doesn’t say anything.

The next few days see somewhat of a return to the awkward air that had been present when Junhui first moved in, the unsettling aloofness, the sense of strangerhood. Jihoon doesn’t want it to be like that, but he can’t help himself from withdrawing. He wants to tell Junhui not to go, but he can’t; he doesn’t have a good reason, only the gut feeling of ‘stay’. He’d rather keep quiet than blurt something out, so when Junhui leaves, he just watches him go without a word.

He falls back into his previous lifestyle with more ease than he’d expected. If it weren’t for Junhui’s things still cluttering the apartment, it would almost be just like old times. ‘Almost’ because now, no matter where he is in the apartment, no matter what time of day, it feels too empty. His bed suddenly seems like an ocean, and he’s having a tough time remembering how to tread water alone.

After a few days and no phone calls, he starts to wonder if any of it meant anything. Maybe he was just lonely. Maybe Junhui was just trying to be a good guest, and he misunderstood. Maybe they’d never gotten any closer at all, but instead the gap just looked like it was shrinking. Jihoon doesn’t know; he keeps to himself too much to know what’s typical and what’s not. He can’t deny that he misses him, but he doesn’t know if he’s missing _him_ or missing _company_. He’s not sure he wants to know the implications of either.

About two weeks after Junhui’s left, still with no phone call, he gets a sudden visit from Seungcheol, an old friend and former roommate from college. He’s certainly not expecting the call when his phone rings out of the blue, Seungcheol telling him he’s in town and wants to stop by. He comes over the next day, looking very much like he did when they were still in school.

“Hey, Jihoon,” he says, pulling him in for a hug as soon as the door opens and patting his back roughly. Same as ever. “It’s been too long! How have you been?”

“Same as always,” he answers, ushering him into the living room. Seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees the various items strewn about the room.

“Do you live with someone now?” he asks, puzzlement evident in his tone. “You always used to keep everything so neat.” Jihoon takes a look around at the various possessions of Junhui’s littering the floor, realizing for the first time what a mess it is.

“My neighbor is staying with me,” he explains, kicking some of the junk to the side. “His apartment flooded.”

“And you actually let him leave it like this?” Seungcheol whistles, flopping down on the couch. “Must be one hell of a neighbor. I distinctly remember _several_ times in college where you threatened to cover my bed in thumbtacks if I didn’t pick up after myself, and one time when you actually did it.” Jihoon can’t help but laugh aloud at the memory.

“That was hilarious,” he says, a wave of nostalgia sweeping over him. “And motivational.”

“Maybe for _you_ it was hilarious,” Seungcheol scoffs, “but for me, it hurt like shit.” Jihoon shrugs, a belated apology nowhere near forming on his lips. They lapse into a normal conversation: what’s been going on lately, how their families are, how work has been. It’s been a while since Jihoon’s talked to anyone like this, but despite the company, he still finds his thoughts drifting to Junhui.

He feels bad about not paying much attention to Seungcheol, but he also feels strangely satisfied about wishing for Junhui’s presence instead, like he’s had just one of many questions answered. The confirmation that it’s Junhui he wants and not just anybody levels him out somehow, makes him more at peace with not having him around. Even if he isn’t sure of how Junhui feels, knowing for himself is a step in the right direction at least.

“Do you have anything to drink?” Seungcheol asks when it’s almost time for him to leave, rising from the couch. “I’m super thirsty.”

“Yeah. There should be something in the fridge, if you wanna go have a look.” Seungcheol nods and walks to the kitchen. Jihoon hears the refrigerator door open just a few moments before he hears his friend speak again.

“No offense, Jihoon,” he begins, “I mean, it’s your life and all, but why the hell is there a tube of toothpaste in your fridge?” Jihoon straightens instinctively.

“There’s a tube of toothpaste in the fridge?” he asks, incredulous.

“Isn’t it your fridge?” Jihoon can hardly believe his eyes when he joins Seungcheol in the kitchen and sees for himself a very real tube of toothpaste sitting all by itself in the middle of the shelf. He picks it up in amazement. It has to have been here for two weeks at least. He stares at it with a fond smile on his face until Seungcheol clears his throat. “Am I going to get an explanation for that or not?”

“Don’t worry about it.” Seungcheol raises his eyebrows, but decides not to press any further. He leaves shortly after, and the second Jihoon shuts the door behind him, he’s back on the couch making a phone call.

“Hey,” he hears from the other end of the line, simultaneously realizing that he’s been underestimating the effect Junhui’s voice would have on him. “Please, before you yell at me, the schedule has been a lot different from what I expected, so every chance I get to call you is a terrible time.” It takes a second for Jihoon to catch up to what he’s talking about.

“I’m not about to yell at you,” he sighs, a small smile curving his mouth.

“That’s a relief.” He can almost hear Junhui grinning through the speakers. “What’s up, then?”

“I found a tube of toothpaste in the fridge,” he states, and faint cackles immediately find their way into his ears. “I don’t suppose you would know anything about that?”

“I can’t believe you just found it,” he says once he’s finally calmed down. “It’s been in there for two weeks. You didn’t even look in the fridge for _two weeks._ ”

“Yeah, yeah. The important thing is that I found it.”

“Oh, Jihoon. You’re a fool if you think that’s all there is. There’s much more where that came from.” Jihoon raises his eyebrows.

“Are you implying that you have misplaced other random items throughout my apartment without telling me?”

“It’s no fun if I _tell_ you I’m doing it,” he huffs. “Then you’ll just look for them on purpose. You have to stop doing work of your own free will and just find them.” Jihoon sighs.

“How many are there?”

“As if I would tell you that. You’ll just have to keep your eyes peeled until I get back.”

“You gonna call me before then?” Now it’s Junhui’s turn to sigh.

“Please don’t guilt me. I already feel bad.” Suddenly, there’s a great deal of noise on the other end. “Hey, I gotta go, but I’ll call you next time I have the chance. We can begin a wonderful game of phone tag when you don’t pick up.”

“Bye.” Jihoon is barely able to get out his farewell greeting before he hears a click and a dial tone.

Over the next two weeks, he finds a great deal more in the way of randomly hidden items than he was expecting. A measuring cup underneath his bed, a neatly folded t-shirt at the back of one of the cabinets, a deck of cards sandwiched between the couch cushions, just to name a few. How much could he possibly have hidden? In addition, the promised game of phone tag begins the very day after the initial call when, exactly as Junhui predicted, Jihoon misses his call, and it shows no signs of stopping up until the very last day before Junhui is supposed to get home.

Jihoon’s sitting at his desk like normal when he suddenly hears an excessively loud pounding at the front door, and it doesn’t cease for even a fraction of a second until he’s pulling the door open. Before him stands Junhui, same as ever, with a suitcase at his feet and a large bouquet of flowers in his hands, pink and red carnations crowned by a thornless rose. Jihoon missed that smile.

“Don’t you have a key?” Jihoon questions, lips threatening to curl upward at any moment.

“I do,” Junhui confesses smugly, “but I wanted you to open the door.” He thrusts the flowers forward into Jihoon’s hands. “For you.” Jihoon gazes tenderly at the flowers, rubbing the petals with his thumb.

“I don’t have a vase to put these in.”

“I suspected that might be the case,” Junhui says, lifting his suitcase and stepping forward into the apartment, “so I got you a vase. It’s in my bag.” He leads the way to the couch and sets the bag down, poising his hand at the zipper before something occurs to him. “Wait a second. I need to see if you found everything I hid.”

“I think I got everything,” Jihoon says confidently as Junhui pulls out and unfolds index card. “Is that a list?”

“Of course.” He starts roaming the apartment erratically, opening cabinets and flattening himself to the floor. “Wouldn’t it be a disaster if I hid something somewhere and forgot about it?” He checks off the list one by one, nodding in approval with each item until he reaches the final one. Entering the bathroom and squatting down to open the storage under the sink, he clicks his tongue. “Unfortunately, it looks like you missed one,” he says in mock disappointment, reaching to the back of the compartment to retrieve a single shoe. “Maybe next time.”

“Whatever,” Jihoon says, rolling his eyes. “At least I got most of them.”

“That’s true.” Junhui returns to the couch and unzips his bag, revealing a greater mass of gift bags than clothes. “I tried to pick up something for you everywhere we went,” he explains, unloading the bags one at a time, “but there wasn’t always time.”

“You didn’t need—”

“I wanted to.” At last, he pulls out a parcel wrapped carefully in tissue paper and smiles. “Here we are.”

Once the vase is partially filled with water and the flowers are in it, Jihoon stands back to admire them. He hasn’t gotten flowers from anyone since his senior band concert in high school. They look unbelievably loud in the monotone kitchen. “Do they mean anything?” he asks, staring at the colorful bunch.

“You can look that up later.” Before he can follow up, Junhui pulls him into a tight embrace. “Did you miss me?” he inquires warmly, voice lowered almost to a whisper, and Jihoon snakes his arms around his waist in kind.

“Did _you_ miss _me_?” he asks mischievously instead of saying ‘yes’ like his entire core is screaming at him to.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.” No hesitation at all. He pulls Jihoon a little closer, a grin spreading across his face. “Are you gonna answer me now?” Jihoon leans back slightly to meet his eyes.

“I think I might be a little in love with you,” he admits, cheeks dusting pink. Junhui’s eyes widen, mouth falling slightly open, and for a second, Jihoon wishes he could take it back.

“Well, I think I might be a lot in love with you.” Now it’s Jihoon’s turn to be surprised. Junhui’s eyes twinkle. “Can I kiss you?” Rather than answering, Jihoon loops his arms around Junhui’s neck and pulls him down until their lips meet.

He tastes like mint, and it sure has been a long time since Jihoon’s kissed someone; it’s been a long time since he’s wanted to. Right now, though, holding Junhui and being held in return, kissing him, feels like the only thing he ever wants to do again. The kiss is long and sweet, their mouths lingering within a centimeter of each other when they finally separate, unable to stop themselves from smiling.

“Is it bad that I don’t want your apartment to get fixed?” Jihoon muses softly.

“Are you saying you want me to live with you indefinitely?” The stars shining at the backs of Junhui’s eyes are clear as ever, and Jihoon’s glad he got to know them.

“If I am?”

“I’ll go cancel my lease right now.” Jihoon ponders for a moment before responding.

“I’m saying it.” Junhui chuckles heartily, putting himself at arm’s length from Jihoon. He just continues chortling as he walks to the entryway and shoves his feet back into his shoes. He turns back to Jihoon with a toothy grin.

“Wanna come with me to cancel my lease?”

**Author's Note:**

> yooooooo so i was super inspired to write this recently and just cranked it tf out. hopefully you all enjoyed it!!! junhoon has been SAILING lately and i'm fuckin thrilled so. i love being able to finally contribute to the tag. woohoo!! anyway, feedback is appreciated, and thank you so so much for reading!
> 
> ((also sorry for the title making it seem way more angsty than it is in reality... i'm a snake))


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